A Matter of Convenience
by snarkysweetness
Summary: Tracey didn’t marry Blaise for love. She has her lovers, he has his. Yet Tracey still insists on interrogating Blaise when he returns home from his romps with other women.


**Title: **A Matter of Convenience **  
Author: **snarkysweetness**  
Characters/Pairings: **Tracey/Blaise, mentions of Blaise with other women and Tracey with other men**  
Rating: **NC-17 **  
Warnings: **Infidelity, infidelity fetish, hate sex (biting, scratching, abuse, language, pain, etc.), dirty talk, control, oral, masturbation, some fluff (erm…if you blink?), and lots of other smutty goodness.

If you think sex needs to be some pretty, beautiful, magical thing, this is probably not the fic for you.**  
When: **Post _Deathly Hallows_**  
Summary:** Tracey didn't marry Blaise for love. She has her lovers, he has his. Yet Tracey still insists on interrogating Blaise when he returns home from his romps with other women.**  
Disclaimer: **Jo owns.I play. Though, I'll gladly take any Weasley (*cough: Charlie*) that she sends my way.**  
Author's Note: **This was written for week 01 of hp_smutday with the prompt of 'infidelity' and 'heels'. I also think I may be kind of in love with Blaise Zabini, just saying.

Tracey hadn't married Blaise for love. She'd married him because he was convenient and all the better wizards were taken. They were both Purebloods, she gave him that. He had money from his mother's many, many marriages. Marriages and murders, for his mother was the ultimate black widow. Tracey had a fortune from being the last member in one of the oldest Wizarding families still left in Britain. With each of them having their own financial independent, she was happier. Not having to share her wealth was convenient for her lifestyle. She enjoyed things that were expensive and stylish and not because she was attracted to expensive things, but because she _could have them_.

Tracey liked to show off. She didn't _need_ a husband, she certainly didn't need Blaise. She was more than capable of doing it all on her own. All but provide herself with a proper heir. That was where Blaise came in.

Blaise was the means to an end. An end, he would add, that she refused to give him just yet. She wanted to enjoy her youth, which meant a child would come only on her terms.

There was no doubt that she controlled their relationship.

She didn't love him.

She loved control, her lovers, money, but never him. He was just there for her convenience, nothing more. Women like her could rule the world through men and if there was still strength for a third world, she'd be the one pulling all of the strings.

Tracey was capable of anything and she chose to live her life doing what she pleased with whom she pleased and no one was going to dare try to stop her, especially not her husband.

Which was why Blaise's activities should be none of her concern. Why should she care that he fucked everything that moved? Prostitutes, Muggle women, random witches, everyone that wasn't her. If they let him, he would fuck them.

Tracey had no reason to care. But she did.

For Blaise, he didn't cheat because it was a thrill or because he could get away with it. No, he did it because it made her _angry_. Because it elicited some sort of emotion from her. She was a cold, indifferent woman and it turned him on to see her cheeks flare with red. Red for him. He'd take what he could get from his shrew of a wife.

"Where have you been?" Tracey sat on a chaise, dressed in a low collared, white nightgown, with matching heels. Always ready to put on a show. He didn't mind, she had amazing legs. The heels were a bit much, but she was a bit much to begin with.

She'd been flipping through a fashion magazine, but now her cold, grey eyes were glaring daggers through him. He resisted smirking; she was easy. Too easy. After only three years of marriage, he had her triggers nailed down to a 'T'.

"Out." He replied, tossing his coat over the loveseat, followed by his tie, before kicking off his shoes. The house-elf would pick them up later, surely, but his messy behavior pissed her off even more. Now a small blush rose on the tops of her lovely breasts, moving up to her smooth neck. She hated mess almost as much as she hated him.

Nothing out of her orderly vision. That was how they were supposed to live. Appearances. Everything was about bloody appearances.

"You smell like cheap whore," she said bitterly.

"And you've had your masseuse today, why do you care?"

Blaise ducked as his grandmother's vase came flying at his head. Tracey had quite the quick temper. "That was an antique, you know?"

"I don't fucking care," she spat. "Perhaps you should have thought about that before you decided to go out and embarrass me with your behavior. Have you no sense of propriety? Affairs are to be kept secret, not flaunted out in public for everyone to see. You just want to make a fool of me!

And what about your heir? How do you think our son will feel knowing that his father has a taste for whores and…" she sniffed him. "Bad whiskey?"

She was on her feet, her eyes wild and angry. God, she was beautiful.

Blaise stepped close to her, shrugging. "No better than he will feel knowing that his mother is nothing better than a common whore herself."

His cheek stung. She'd slapped him, hard.

"I _hate_ you." She came at him again and he grabbed her wrists, pulling her close. She fought him, like a little vixen, but he was stronger than she was. Annoyed, she dug her nails into his wrist, causing him to cry out before tightening his hold, hurting her. She would never tell him, of course, but he could see the pain on her face.

"If you hate me so much, then why do you care who I'm fucking?" His face was close to hers, his eyes boring into hers. She stared back, her eyes on fire. He'd hit a nerve. Good. He needed to hit something.

"I don't-"

Blaise cut her off, his lips crushing against hers. She kissed him back. It was only for a sliver of a moment, but she'd _kissed him back_. Her moment of weakness didn't last long, however. She bit him, hard, on the tongue.

"Bitch," he muttered, slapping her, hard. He'd feel bad, he really would, but she enjoyed that sort of thing. He wasn't the type to hit a woman unless she wanted it and Tracey was definitely the kind of woman who wanted it.

"Bastard." She went after him again with her claws, but he caught her after she managed to get at his face. Struggling with her for a long moment, he managed to rip that expensive gown of hers, exposing her right breast.

"That was the newest Cha-oh." Blaise's mouth had quickly caught her nipple. He swirled his tongue around the now hard nub before biting down, hard, revenge for her earlier attack. A small moan escaped her lips and he knew, he'd won this round. Even if she continued to fight, he'd gotten to her and to him that was all the victory that he needed.

Tracey's nails found his scalp and they dug in deep enough to cause pain. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. His cock throbbed in his trousers; knowing that she wanted him was all that he needed.

Blaise bit her again, suckling and cursed as her nails found his back. How she managed to dig in that deep through his shirt amazed him.

"I thought I was a bastard, ruining your good name?"

"Shut up," she demanded, tugging at the buttons on his shirt.

Blaise brought her lips back to his, unbuttoning his trousers. "Don't you want to hear about how when I was fucking the barmaid at the pub in the back room, I was thinking of you? You and your delicious cunt?" Freeing himself from his boxers, he stroked himself for a moment before his fingers found her damp folds. Pushing a finger inside, he hissed. "I think hearing about it turns you on."

"You're sick." But she didn't push him away, instead they were kissing again. Quickly and sloppy. Blaise couldn't get enough of her. Pulling her hands off of him, Blaise tossed her off of him and down onto the chaise.

"Open your legs."

"No."

"I said, open." When she again refused, Blaised pushed them open with his hands. Staring down at her, her hair wild, gown town, heels still on, he remembered why he put up with her bullshit. She was worth every moment of it.

"You look like a common whore right now."

She moved to kick him, but Blaise caught her foot. With one hand holding her ankle in place, the other traced her shin. Normally he wouldn't mind fucking her with heels on, but not when she was planning to use them as a weapon. Slipping the heel off and throwing it behind him, Blaise placed a single kiss on the heel of her foot before laying it back down.

Moving to his knees he ripped off her second heel, leaving feet bare. Slipping a hand over her knee and between her legs, he took in her scent; heavenly. Sliding his hands over her body, he found her waist and pulled her closer until his nose was touching her opening.

With two fingers, he spread open her folds and slowly lapped at her middle. She was sweet. With his thumb and forefinger, he pinched her clit before nestling his mouth over the small patch of flesh. Hit bit it, softly at first, then harder. Tracey gasped and shuddered, her fingers back in his hair.

Blaise let out a moan, his mouth covering her mound, his tongue pushing into her. Fingers found her clit again and stroked it while he fucked her with his mouth. With his free hand he stroked himself, not being able to resist. The cries coming out of her were too delicious not to wank to.

"Blaise-" She was close and Blaise really was a bastard. Removing his mouth, she let out a small whine. Just like a child who'd had its toy taken away.

"Hush," he commanded, slipping two fingers inside of her. He watched her face as his fingers pumped away inside of her. One of her hands moved to a nipple and he slapped it away. "No." He took the mound of her breast in his palm and gave it a squeeze. Rolling the flesh between his fingers, he longed to have his mouth back on them, but he'd save that for later. Taking her a nipple between his fingers, he pinched until she cried out in pain. Slipping in a third finger, he increased his movement, stretching her, preparing her, all while continuing the assault on her breast.

She clenched her walls around him and as much as he wanted to watch as she came, this wasn't about that. Pulling out his fingers, he brought them up to his lips, licking them clean.

He could feel her glare, but he ignored her. "You taste better than her. But I made her scream louder. And I let her come. Left her with bruises too. Maybe I should bruise you."

"Shut-"

"Jealous?"

"Never."

Blaise stood and towered over her. "Then tell me that truth. Do you want me to fuck you? To let you come? All you have to do is ask."

"I will do no such thing." She moved to get off the chaise, no doubt thinking of finishing the job herself, but he wasn't going to let her get out that easily.

Grabbing her wrists above her head, Blaise pushed her down, holding her with the weight of his body. He pressed his erection against her wet opening, rubbing lightly. "Say it."

"No." She arched her back, pressing their bodies closer together.

"Do it."

"No," she repeated and he kissed her. It didn't take her long to return the kiss, she couldn't resist the touch of him for long. Blaise broke the kiss, pressing against her again.

"Say it."

"Fuck you," she spat.

"Fine," he whispered, looking into her eyes before thrusting into her, but he didn't fuck her. No, she had to ask for it. He stayed in place, letting her feel him stationary inside of her.

His lips trailed over her collar bone, his tongue darting out to taste her salty flesh. Nestling his face between her bosom, his tongue drew small circles on her skin. Opening his mouth, he took as much as he could into his mouth, sucking hard, wanting to leave a mark, his tongue focusing on her nipple.

"Fine," Tracey whispered, her voice straining. After a long moment of sucking up her pride, she spoke. "Fuck me." It was barely above a whisper.

Blaise lifted his head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said fuck me you piece of shit!" Her face was red now, angry. She didn't like submitting to him, at all. He didn't take too much time to enjoy the look on her face, his cock was soon busy doing as she commanded; fucking her. Keeping her pinned down, Blaise thrust into her deeply, as deeply as possible. He continued these long, slow strides, watching her face. He could make out his name through her mutterings. He stopped for a moment, causing her to whimper before pushing into her with all force. Tracey shuddered as she came, high-pitched cries escaping her lips, but those weren't good enough for him, he wanted to hear her scream.

"You can do better than that," he told her, thrusting in and out of her at a quicker pace. His movements were hard and rough. He would come soon, but he wanted to do it with her. He wanted to make her scream, to make her come twice. Releasing her wrists, Blaise pulled her body closer, fucking harder and faster. He pushed her hair out of her face, wanting to see every twitch, every gasp, all of it.

Her hands were back on his back, nails digging into his skin. "Scream for me," he whispered, straining to hold back.

Her mouth hung half open and she seemed to not even be there, except for the small gasps and the way her nails dug. Moving his lips to her ear, his voice straining, he whispered, "please." He was desperate. "Tracey, for me."

"Blaise," for once, she wasn't angry or bitching at him, instead her voice was quiet, almost loving. It hurt too much to dwell on that. "I-oh, there, right there," she shrieked. He'd found the right spot, it seemed. Speeding up, it took only moments before he got his wish; Tracey screaming his name, blood spilling down his back from her scratches. He could care less about his wounds; the sound of her calling his name like that was heaven.

She may not have married him for love, but Blaise loved her more than anything in this world and convenience be damned. He'd take everything she threw his way for sex like this.

Blaise slowly pulled out of her, kissing her softly. One moment, he was on top of her, the next he'd switched their positions so she was laying on top of him, cradled in his arms as she kissed him.

Hand resting on her thigh, she broke the kiss and gave him a small pout. "You ruined my gown."

"I'll buy you a new one."

She rolled her eyes. "What's the point if you're going to rip that one off too?"

"Stop being such a bitch and I won't," he told her, noting the small flash of pain in her eyes before he kissed her. It wasn't her fault that she was this way. It was the way they'd all been raised. Not taught to love or appreciate anyone. They were all selfish and that was why they somehow managed to make it work.

Even though she didn't ask for it, Blaise held her against his chest, letting her have her moment to herself, to think, to be vulnerable, whatever it was. She'd never tell him. He was glad that they weren't yelling for once.

"Tracey?"

"What?" She sounded annoyed that he was even speaking. Did she know what he wanted to say? Did she care? Or did she just want nothing to do with him again? Or was there something in her voice that sounded almost desperate?

"Nothing," he whispered.

Tracey looked at him for a long moment before hugging him again. No speaking it, he got it.

Summoning a blanket, he wrapped her up before pulling her body close to his. He could freeze, but she was his wife, no matter how big of a cunt she could be most of the time. The minutes ticked by and soon, she was peacefully asleep.

And he watched her, because he couldn't _not_ watch her. Sleep was the only time he could tell her the truth.

Tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear, he lowered his head and placed a soft, smooth kiss on her forehead. "I love you," he finally said, cherishing the fact that he could tell her, even if she'd never hear him.

Laying his head over hers, Blaise missed the small smiled that creept onto Tracey's face before she mouthed 'You too' and went back to pretending to sleep.


End file.
